


every light must burn you out

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Mob, Blood and Gore, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi and Bokuto adopt Hinata and everybody is happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every light must burn you out

Hinata Shouyou must have done something wrong. 

Maybe not now, but sometime in his life. Years ago, minutes ago. If he had done something right, he wouldn't be in the foyer, staring at the massacre.

Finally, he stepped over the first body. The blood blossomed on the wall, fresh and dripping. The metallic smell permeated the air and filled his mouth. He climbed up the winding staircase. Sometimes he went floors without seeing a body. Other times, he couldn’t avoid the spreading pool of blood in a slow cascade down the stairs. He left bloody footprints behind him. His shoes squelched when he walked. 

He could hear a fake Kageyama yelling in his head. What’s the point of looking if you don’t see, dumbass. None of the bodies were dressed in the Fukurodani white. The corpses had been intruders. Teeth and chunks of matter were strewn down the steps. Violence. The gunshot wounds mingled with jagged knife gashes. Erratic violence. If the real Kageyama was there, he’d probably analyze the scene like it was nothing. Oh, Kageyama would say, the height of the injury suggests the trajectory of the attack means the assailant was something something something. But Hinata wasn’t good enough yet. That was why he headed into unknown Fukurodani territory, far away from Karasuno’s haunts. 

The Fukurodani main house was hidden away, but they had nests throughout the city. From the outside, the building had been clean and formidable. Old statues of owls stared down at him, cresting on the higher floors. Even now, he passed by owl sculptures. Some had their heads twisted, stone eyes following his movements. Others had their wings and talons outstretched, painted in the midst of a hunt. Fukurodani was an old house, violence and power mingling with history. The prestigious beauty of the simple architecture was proof. 

Hinata climbed higher. The bullet holes in the walls faded away and fewer bodies littered the floor. The firefight finished on the floors below. Hinata reached the penthouse floor. A golden owl head protruded from the wooden door. Hinata fumbled with the small envelope in his breast pocket. He swiped Kuroo’s keycard and the doors opened before him.

The room was dark. The stairwell had been well lit with windows, and Hinata blinked to adjust. 

Yellow eyes, round like the moon, stared back at him. 

Hinata jumped back, hands raised.

“I’m a friend!” he yelled, hoarse voice shattering the silence of the room. 

The yellow eyes blinked, slow and deliberate. Hinata could make out the figure of a man, crouched over a whimpering form. The man stood up, the light from the curtained window catching him. He wore a white suit, lapels peaked and sleeves sloppily rolled up. Blood stained his suit and the ends of his gold tie. He dangled a revolver from his hand, almost playfully. He had strength in his broad shoulders and confidence in his dangerous grin. Even without Kuroo telling him the details, Hinata would have known. This was Bokuto Koutarou, the boss of Fukurodani.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Bokuto said. 

“You didn’t ask a question!”

“Ah, really?” Bokuto grimaced, rubbed his head, and then pointed the gun at Hinata. “Okay! Who are you?”

“Hinata Shouyou, sir! I come from Karasuno, sir! Nekoma’s boss has recommended me for an apprenticeship under Fukurodani, sir!” Hinata swallowed his dry throat. “I have a letter in my pocket, sir!” 

“Which pocket? And stop calling me sir already!”

“Front pocket, s…” Hinata clenched his jaw shut. 

“Akaashi.” Bokuto nodded towards Hinata. When Hinata turned, he saw the muzzle of a gun disappearing from the shadows and heard the gun being holstered. Another man emerged from the corner, wearing a pristine white suit. Unlike the boss, the man was neat and slender. He was beautiful in the way statues were beautiful. The man pulled the letter from the pocket briskly, eyes flickering to Hinata’s gun. He unfolded the letter, slicing through the wax seal with his thumb. 

“It’s from Kuroo,” Akaashi said. “He’s offering a negotiation between Fukurodani and Karasuno.” 

“So this kid’s not an enemy, right?” 

“I’m not a kid!” Hinata protested, but neither of them spared him a look.

“No,” Akaashi said, closing the letter. “He’s not an enemy.”

“Good! Because I’m busy!” Bokuto holstered his gun. Hinata dropped his gaze to the whimpering form, hand caught underneath Bokuto’s blood-stained shoe. Bokuto suddenly stomped down on the hand. Something snapped. The form wailed, and Bokuto grinned, rolling down his foot. Hinata straightened up, gritting his teeth against the crackling sound.

“Hey, you’ll tell me why you attacked a Fukurodani roost, right.” Bokuto patted the stranger’s face, soft smacks filling the room. “Hey hey, you’ll tell me, right.” 

“Let’s get a drink,” Akaashi said, steering Hinata to the right. “Bokuto-san, you should listen as well.”

“But I’m busy, Akaashi!”

“They’re not going anywhere.” Akaashi slid his hand across the wall and hit a switch. He had movements like Kageyama, quiet and precise. Maybe he was the specialist from Fukurodani. A slight thrill fluttered up Hinata’s stomach. In one day, he had met the boss and specialist from Fukurodani. Now he only had to live to tell the tale.

The switch opened the curtains with a mechanical hum and the light revealed the spacious room. The white furniture was stained with blood. Along the south wall, a line of strangers had been tied up, blindfolded and gagged. Hinata tried not to look surprised, but he never had any talent for hiding his expressions. 

“We had a recent infestation. Don’t mind them.” Akaashi set out the whiskey glasses on the counter. “Why would you like to apprentice under Fukurodani?” 

“Because it’s Fukurodani!” Hinata blurted out. 

“That’s a good answer! Let’s take the kid, Akaashi!” Bokuto had wandered over, sliding into a stool. Even when slouching on the counter, Bokuto was taller than Hinata. But Hinata had always been surrounded by giants. It was Bokuto’s openness that surprised him, strong arms sprawling across the counter like wings. He had an easy and aggressive grin. This man was dangerous, and Hinata wanted to learn from him.

“Tsukishima was from Karasuno, too. Didn’t he mostly apprentice under Nekoma?” Akaashi poured out the amber scotch. For Hinata, he passed over a glass of water. 

“Tsukishima! I liked Tsukishima.” Bokuto rubbed his bloody hands with a towel. 

“He learned about guarding from Kuroo, but I want to learn about fighting, too. Kuroo said you’d help.” Hinata wiggled in his seat. Karasuno and Nekoma had an old history, going back for centuries. They had both fallen from power, but Nekoma had already started to reclaim territories and grow in strength. They extended a helping hand to Karasuno. The invitation to meet the Fukurodani Alliance was a great chance for their house and Hinata wanted to grab it. Dumb Tsukishima with his dumb glasses and dumb intelligence had already learned from Kuroo’s defenses. To catch up with Kageyama, Hinata needed something more. 

The other Alliance groups were beneficial, too. Shinzen had techniques and Ubugawa had decisive strikes. But Fukurodani was strong. Hinata wanted to become strong.

“I like this guy! Let’s do it!” Bokuto slapped him on the back and Hinata lurched against the counter. “I’m Bokuto! I’m Fukurodani’s boss, which means you listen to everything I say. And that’s our specialist, Akaashi.”

“We can talk more about this later,” Akaashi said, “But I expect negotiations will go well. We enjoyed Tsukishima’s company.” 

Hinata never thought those words could ever be in the same sentence. 

“That’s right,” Akaashi recalled, perching his finger over the glass. “Tsukishima mentioned you had a new specialist. Kageyama Tobio.”

Hinata could tell Akaashi was smart because Tsukishima must have described their new specialist with more interesting adjectives. Kageyama Tobio was their sniper specialist, a genius who could fire precise shots under extreme circumstances. He had grown up in the same orphanage as their current rival, Oikawa Tooru from Aoba Johsai. Kageyama was a jerk, but he was Karasuno’s jerk. When they had lost their last skirmish to Seijoh with devastating fatalities, Hinata knew he couldn’t keep relying on Kageyama’s skill. Hinata curled his fingers in his lap. He wasn’t strong enough. Not yet.

“Sniper, right?” Bokuto grinned. “Akaashi is our businessman.” 

Businessman. Akaashi must run the stocks, collect the blackmail, launder the money, and infinitude of rackets that Hinata didn’t understand. Each family could have a different type of specialist, and Hinata had never met a business specialist. Kenma had run strategies and Oikawa was also a sniper.

“It’s nothing so impressive,” Akaashi said. “We can formally settle the matter later. Bokuto-san, go ahead and finish before our cleaner arrives.”

Hinata didn’t think Akaashi meant the kind of cleaner who just washed out the bloodstains. Karasuno had a cleaner, too. Nishinoya took care of things efficiently. 

“I’ll get the information out of them, Akaashi!” Bokuto leapt from his seat. Akaashi sipped from his glass.

Hinata faced Akaashi, away from Bokuto stomping on the intruder’s fingers. He was used to blood and violence, but Bokuto had a strange and dangerous intensity. He could hear Bokuto laughing, and then another crack of breaking bone. Again. Again. The whimpering and begging grew louder, and Bokuto roared with laughter. 

“Did you see that, Akaashi?” 

“I did,” Akaashi said, not looking up from his scotch, “Impressive.” 

Akaashi’s gaze was full of disdain. Hinata had been feeling disturbed since he entered the Fukurodani nest. This was far away from Karasuno, where even the impertinent and dumb Tsukishima respected their boss. He wouldn’t call Akaashi disrespectful, but the relationship seemed strange. 

“He should really hold back with guests around,” Akaashi said. 

“I don’t mind!” Hinata gripped his fists. “I’m used to it!”

“It’ll take you some time to get used to Bokuto-san. He has troublesome mood swings.” Akaashi folded his arms across his chest. If Bokuto was open and happy, Akaashi was closed off and thoughtful. Hinata appreciated Akaashi’s pensiveness, but he didn’t need it.

“I’ll do it,” Hinata said. “I’ll learn from him until I can _gawoosh_ like him, too.”

“Gawoosh.” Akaashi had a slight smile. “You two will get along too well.”

Another man screamed behind them. 

“What’s wrong, huh? Did you come here really thinking you could knock off Fukurodani? Is that it?” Bokuto was shouting. Hinata tilted his head enough to watch Bokuto kick the man’s head with a sickening thud. The neck whipped forward, but the man still groaned, alive enough to contort against the rope. Bokuto crouched down, pulling the man’s head back by the hair. Hinata turned away again.

“Bokuto-san can be a handful,” Akaashi said. “But please let me know if you have any problems. I used to be his personal bodyguard.”

“Really?” Hinata slammed his hands over his mouth, but his disbelief had already slipped out. It was a big change from bodyguard to running the family business. 

“Yes. I was adopted into the Fukurodani family at a young age. I thought Bokuto-san was a spoiled brat. Well, I wasn’t wrong.” Akaashi smiled into his drink. This wasn’t the thin smile he’d given Hinata, but something warmer. He had been standing with a straight back, holding himself to formality, but Akaashi now comfortably leaned on the counter. Hinata felt like he was sharing a secret with Akaashi. 

“So what happened?” Hinata knew he shouldn’t pry into Fukurodani’s personal history, but he keenly wanted to know. And despite his foreboding expression, Akaashi seemed kind.

“I failed at my job, so I was promoted.” Akaashi folded his hands together, crisp lines of his clean suit merging. “Taking care of Bokuto-san was my obligation. He was the son of the boss and he always had his own willful ideas. My cooperation was always taken for granted. And then, one day, he was kidnapped. I survived, to my great discredit. But the boss was more concerned about recovering his son, and I had enough details about the attackers to give them a good lead, so I wasn't punished. It was my fault, of course. If I had done a better job on the protection detail, it never would have happened. Perhaps they didn’t punish me because Bokuto-san was quite attached to me. Either way, they recovered Bokuto-san quickly enough without my help. I was still recovering in the private hospital when they brought him back.” 

The violent thudding sounds behind them didn’t stop. Akaashi watched the sight thoughtfully, finger again playing against the rim of his glass.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Akaashi said. “Bokuto-san was always quite capricious and violent. If anything, his torture only solidified and reaffirmed his attachment to violence. He’s quite obvious with his troubles and kicks up a fuss on the slightest whim, so I don’t suspect he harbored any dark trauma. In the hospital room, he was cheery and quite happy to have returned. He was ordering me around like nothing happened. He had the right to execute me, but we played games for endless hours. He used his injuries as thin excuses to have me dote upon him. Still, I was relieved that he returned. His father, the boss, wouldn’t punish me while I was still his favorite.”

Akaashi still leaned on the counter, but Hinata noticed the strict lines on his back. His shoulder blades looked like wings, arched out and sharp against his suit. His black tie drooped slightly near the bloody smudges. His long fingers curled around his empty glass.

“In this line of work, everything is violent. It starts to look the same, so you notice when the details are a little different. That night, he asked that I stay in his room. He didn’t ply me with his usual nonsensical requests and he didn’t come up with any schemes to sneak out of the hospital. He only asked that I stay while he slept. And he asked the next night. And the next.” Akaashi’s smile was mirthless and cold. “How could I forgive those bastards once I noticed that?”

Someone screamed behind them. The light fell on Akaashi’s still face. 

“Who were they?” Hinata didn’t mean to interrupt, but he was curious. He’d never heard of a family that fought against Fukurodani like that. 

“They’re gone now. You wouldn’t know them.” Akaashi watched the carnage behind them. “The former Fukurodani boss was content with a few key hits, but that’s too forgiving. It’s easier if you take out their businesses, both the underground and the legal transactions. Without their income, they’ll diminish in power and begin fighting amongst themselves. Spread a few rumors and their allies will turn against them. With a few raids, you can even claim their territory and gain a few friends. Having Bokuto-san take out their leaders would be par for course. Their guilty have long since been buried.”

Hinata straightened up in his seat. He had been comparing Akaashi to Kageyama, but he thought he could compare him to Tsukishima, too. They seemed to have gotten along while Tsukishima had visited. Akaashi was calm and intelligent, and he was loyal. Hinata and Kageyama always argued, so much that he thought they’d never get along, but he was already learning so much from Fukurodani. Akaashi was telling the story about when he stopped being a bodyguard and started being family.

“To put it another way,” Akaashi said dryly, “There’s nothing wrong with Bokuto-san that isn’t wrong with me.” 

He said it like a joke, but Hinata thought Akaashi would kill anyone who insinuated anything was wrong with Bokuto.

Something wet splattered across the carpet and Hinata twisted his chair around. Bokuto was partially kneeling over a body, a wide grin on his face. With a beautiful knife, he stabbed the body. The gashes ran deep, dark blood pooling at the gaping tears. Hinata could hear the knife digging into the softer organs and scraping against the harder bone. There was no rhythm to the stabbing. Sometimes he stabbed like a fast heartbeat, and other times he savored the blow, twisting the knife deep between the ribs. Hinata had suspected it, but he knew then that Bokuto had been responsible for the bodies below. Kageyama would have realized it from the start, but Hinata had to watch the way Bokuto destroyed the body to be sure. 

Bokuto laughed wildly and loudly, blood soaking into his suit. It didn’t seem like he could stop himself, or that anybody could stop him. His movements grew jerkier and desperate, abandoning the knife in favor of his fists. He pounded against the head, entire body thrown behind every punch. He laughed louder and louder, in choked and hoarse starts, the limp head snapping back and forth between the blows. His forearms had been coated with fresh blood. The light burned from his yellow eyes, sharp and searing. It shone like molten gold. He needed to destroy everything around him.

“What a mess,” Akaashi murmured. He had called Bokuto a spoiled brat, but Hinata thought it was Akaashi who spoiled him now. Down below in the stairwell, even if Bokuto had been the one with the gun, Akaashi must have watched from the shadows. 

Akaashi stepped out, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Bokuto stood up, panting, turning towards him in a slight daze. He had a vicious grin on his face, eyes wide and blood dripping from his chin. This was the man who ran a golden empire. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, and dabbed at the blood. His touch was delicate and gentle, like he was touching something fragile. Bokuto blinked, pupils narrowing until he looked calm. 

“I got a lead,” Bokuto said.

“I saw. You got it a while ago. Let’s leave the rest to the cleaner and bring Hinata to a safer nest.” Akaashi disposed of the bloody handkerchief in a garbage can. The move seemed purely ceremonial, considering the blood on the floor. 

“Oh.” Bokuto wiped his hands on the front of his suit. “Yeah! Come on, Hinata, I’ll show you around! We have a bunch of games so we can play all night!” 

“You have a meeting tonight, Bokuto-san.”

“We can play until the meeting tonight!” 

“Y-yeah!” Hinata jumped up from his seat, mustering the enthusiasm. Bokuto was all friendly smiles now, patting Hinata on the back. 

They took the elevator, unlocked by another keycard. Bokuto chattered about the features of the next Fukurodani nest. Hinata was suitably impressed, oohing and aahing, which only added embellishments to the elaboration. While the elevator crossed the middle floors, Bokuto took off his suit jacket and slung it over his elbow. Akaashi grabbed his wrists and cleaned off the top layer of drying blood, even while Bokuto tried to move his hands and talk through the enormous television set in the nest.

When the elevator doors opened, Hinata was ready for the carnage. Bokuto stepped over the bodies easily, still trying to explain the size of the television with his arms. Hinata thought he might be powerful like that too, someday. He might not have had Bokuto’s physical strength, but he had energy and willpower. Even though he could see the costs, he would fight until he had nothing left to give.

“Do you think Komi will just burn the place down?” Bokuto glanced behind him at the old building. 

“No. I think there’s still something that can be saved.” Akaashi was focused on dialing on his cell phone, but he curled his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, gentle and careful.

Hinata thought there was much he could learn from the Fukurodani family.


End file.
